


Is this a dagger?

by SHADOWSQUILL



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, InfiniteTARDISprompts, Is this a dagger, Life in the TARDIS, Macbeth - Freeform, Royal Shakespeare Company, Shakespeare, Tumblr: doctorroseprompts, christopher eccleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHADOWSQUILL/pseuds/SHADOWSQUILL
Summary: "The Doctor interrupted his soliloquy, offended by the giggles he could hear from his companion. She had been smiling at first when he started performing one of the most famous lines of the tragedy Macbeth. It had all begun with one of their tiny argument caused by a misunderstanding."





	Is this a dagger?

“Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable as this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; and such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, and on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, which was not so before. There’s no such thing: It is the bloody business which informs thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one halfworld…”

 

The Doctor interrupted his soliloquy, offended by the giggles he could hear from his companion. She had been smiling at first when he started performing one of the most famous lines of the tragedy _Macbeth_. It had all begun with one of their tiny argument caused by a misunderstanding. They were relaxing in the media room and Rose had wanted to watch a movie. She was looking through the shelves of DVDs to find something nice when she had stumbled upon a romcom that made her quote _Romeo and Juliet_. He had retorted that he was more a fan of Macbeth who was a real tragic hero manipulated by his wife and their thirst for power that led him to his bloody end. And he had chosen to recite the soliloquy preceding Duncan’s death to impress her with his theatre skills. In vain.

 

“What?”

“Sorry.” She didn’t look sorry at all as she wiped the tears of laughter away from her eyes. “It’s just… you were so…”

“Impressive?”

“No.” She bit her lip not to laugh again. “Serious. As if your life depended on these lines and…”

 

She couldn’t finish her sentence because she was back at laughing. He folded his arms over his chest, definitely offended now. He hated being mocked, especially when he was trying to make a point. But it was something Rose was always doing. Him, the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Death was being mocked by a little human. That was offensive.

 

“Alright. Laugh as much as you want but on my next life, that daft old face you’re unfairly mocking, is playing Macbeth on one of the most prestigious stage.”

“Broadway?”

 

The Doctor snorted. She was still laughing at him and despite being really irritated by this behaviour, he couldn’t really be mad at her. Her laugh was heaven and he couldn’t get enough of it in a day.

 

“My dear Rose, you have to know that even if I’m not fond of Shakespeare, it’s part of my immeasurable knowledge.”

“You’re trying to be impressive again.”

 

She had stopped laughing now but she still had that impish spark in her eyes that was telling him that she was ready to burst out in laughter at any chance he would give her. She had the tracks of her tears on her cheeks and her make-up was ruined.

 

“So, what’s the link between Shakespeare and Broadway and you?”

“There’s no Broadway.”

“You said prestigious.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s Broadway.”

“What is it then?”

“Ever heard of Stratford-upon-Avon?”

“Nope.”

“A lovely city. Shakespeare’s birth town. They make a real business with his name out there.”

“Humans make profit of everything.”

“Anyway, they have that theatre, the _Royal Shakespeare Company_. Beautiful building by the Avon with a huge park. Very nice for walks.”

“We don’t just walk. We run.”

“True.”

“Now, what’s the link between the Doctor, Shakespeare and this theatre? Wait… you’ve met Shakespeare and helped for the construction of the building, am I right?”

“I wish I have, but that’s not something I’ve done. I’ve spent some time alone after… well, after the war. I like seeing a good play. Maybe that’s why I’m playing on that stage in the near future.”

“I can’t believe it.”

 

The Doctor huffed. Why no one believed him when he was telling them he was a good actor? That he was worth playing on a big stage? He was gonna prove her wrong. It was crossing his timeline and meeting his future self and he shouldn’t – really shouldn’t – do this but he would do it anyway. ‘ _Something wicked this way comes_ ’ after all…

He ran to the console room and entered the coordinates for Stratford-upon-Avon on Earth. Year 2018. Period, anytime from March to June as long as there was a performance where he was on stage. The TARDIS protested. She hated when he was doing this, crossing his timeline for personal purposes. It always led to a huge mess he was running away from. He soothed her, promised he wouldn’t even come out. He was just proving a point for Rose and leaving the place. She wasn’t convinced, but he had to take the risk still. He couldn’t let anyone mock him about anything. Even if it came from a friend. His ego could be so stupid sometimes.

 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

 

Rose had followed him to the console room. She was now sat on the pilot seat and observing him with an amused smile on her lips. She loved teasing him and watching him grumble in his corner.

 

“Sulking.”

“Time Lords don’t sulk.”

“Time Lords in general I don’t know, but you do.”

“I don’t.”

 

Rose chuckled. The Doctor parked the TARDIS in a private part of the theatre. He pulled out his psychic paper and gave it to Rose. She took it, dubitative.

 

“I’m taking too many risks by just being there. Pretend it’s your ticket and they’ll let you in. See you after the performance.”

 

The Doctor hated letting Rose wander off on her own while he was stuck in the TARDIS but as much as he loved poking on troubles with a stick, he would play it safe this time. He read the play for the umpteenth time to keep his mind off of the fact that Rose was alone in this theatre. For once, he had scanned the area, made sure there was no threat – alien or human – and kept looking at his watch. He felt better only when Rose came back in the ship, when she closed the door behind her.

 

“Well, you were right,” she admitted. “You’ll be a breath-taking Macbeth.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope I’ll still be around to congratulate you at that time.”

 

She winked at him and went to her room. She took a nice and warm shower and changed into her pyjamas. When she came out of her bathroom, the Doctor was sat on her bed, picking food from a tray he had brought. To her arched eyebrow, he shrugged.

 

“Thought you’d be hungry.”

“Thought you weren’t into domestics.”

“‘M not.”

 

Rose sat by his side and picked some of the food on the tray. There were chips of course, but not only. The Doctor had added some healthy food. But beside that, he wasn’t domestic at all. When she was done eating, she put the tray aside and lay down. He did the same. Both of them were watching the ceiling now. A habit they had gotten after their meeting with the Dalek.

 

“Can you do something for me?”

“If it falls within my abilities.”

“I’d like you to recite that soliloquy again”

“Which one?”

“After the lady dies.”

 

One of the most famous soliloquies of the play obviously. One of the saddest too. He stayed silent a few minutes and then, he started speaking, keeping his voice low, his northern accent making the lines more intense.

 

“She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of our recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s nothing but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”


End file.
